"Dance, Slave!" commanded the proprietor, her Master.
She, terrified, fled to the sand, with a jangling of her chains, and jewels and metal droplets, and stood there, tears in her eyes, knees flexed, arms lifted over her head.
"Play!" cried the proprietor to the musicians. He cracked the whip once again.
They began to play, and the girl, once more, danced.
I looked upon her, and looked, as well, from face to face in that crowded, noisy, poorly lit room, filled with men laughing and drinking. There was not a face there that I saw that did not seem to me the face of an animal.
And I, whoever or whatever I might be, sat with them, at the same tables.
I joined in their laughter. "More paga!" I cried.
And then I wept, for I had loved two women, and had lost them both.
And, as I watched, on that square of sand between the tables in a paga tavern in Port Kar, under the ship's lanterns, the movements of the body of a slave girl, the lights reflected in her chains, the rubies, the shimmering golden droplets, I grew slowly furious.
Then she was among the tables, her slave body glistening, sensuous and swaying.
I vowed that I would never again lose a woman.
Woman, I told myself, as many said, was natural slave.
Then she was before my very table. "Master," she whispered.
Our eyes met.
She wore a collar. I was free. Her garment was an ornament. At my side I wore a sword of steel.
In the instant that our glances had met I had seen that she, whom I took as woman, would, if she had had the power, make men slaves, but in that same instant she had seen, in my eyes, that it was men who were the stronger, who held the power, and that it would be she, if any, who would be the slave.
"Begone," I said, releasing her from my will.
She whirled away, angrily, frightened, moving to another table.
I watched her. "That," I said to myself, "is woman."
I watched her moving, noted the glistening of the ornament she wore, remarked its sound.
I observed her, vicious, seductive, sinuous, desirable, excruciatingly desirable, owned.
She was tormenting, the collared she of her, and beautiful, but I laughed, for these things were not truly hers, but his, her master's, who had but shortly before put the whip to her back, for she was but a wench in bondage, one owned by a man, in all things his.
I laughed.
The men of Port Kar, I said, know well how to treat women.
The men of Port Kar, I said to myself, know well how to keep women.
As slaves, and slaves alone!
Worthless are they for aught else!
I had loved two women, and I had lost them both.
I vowed I would never lose another.
I rose drunkenly to my feet and kicked the table away.
I do not recall as clearly as I might what occurred during that night, but certain things have remained with me.
I do recall that I was incredibly drunk, and furious, and miserable, and filled with hate.
"I am of Port Kar!" I cried.
I threw a silver tarsk, taken from what we had obtained from the slavers in the marsh, to the proprietor of the paga tavern, and took in return one of the huge bottles of paga, of the sort put in the pouring sling, and reeled out of the tavern, making my way along the narrow walkway lining the canal, toward the quarters taken by my men, Thurnock and Clitus, with our slaves.
I had pounded on the beamed door of our quarters. "Paga!" I had cried. "I bring paga!"
Thurnock took down the beams from the door, and swung it open.
"Paga!" he shouted, pleased, seeing the great bottle.
Midice, startled, looked up from where she knelt, polishing the hoops of brass upon my shield. About her throat were the five coils of binding fiber, knotted there in token of her slavery. I had given her a brief tunic of silk, briefer even than had been the rence tunic she had worn when she had taunted me at the pole, and when she had danced before me, which had been taken from her by the slaver after she had been netted on the island.
"Good, my Captain," said Clitus from one side where he sat working on a net, reinforcing its knots one by one. He grinned at the sight of the bottle. "I could use some paga," said he. He had purchased the net in the morning, with a trident, the traditional weapons of the fisherman of the western shore and the western islands. Kneeling quite near him, holding cord for him, fiber on her throat serving as collar, knelt short, dark-haired Ula. She, too, wore a slight bit of silk.
Thura, the large, blond girl, gray-eyed, knelt near a pile of wood shavings. Thurnock, though in Port Kar, had found a piece of Ka-la-na stock, and had been carving a great bow, the long bow. I knew he had also found some bits of bosk horn, and some leather, and some hemp and silk. In two or three days, I expected, he, too, would have a bow. Piles he had already commissioned from a smith; and Thura, on his command, this afternoon, with a bit of stick, had struck down a Vosk gull, that the shafts he fashioned, whether from Ka-la-na or tem-wood, would be well fletched. She had been watching him make the bow, apparently, for most of the afternoon and evening. When I entered she dropped her head, saying "Greetings, my Master's Captain." She, too, wore binding fiber on her throat, and a bit of silk. I saw that Thurnock had had her put a flower in her hair, a talender. Kneeling, she looked up at him, and he gave her head a rough shake, getting shavings in her hair. She put her head down, smiling.
"Where is the Kettle Slave!" I cried.
"Here, Master," said Telima, not pleasantly, entering the room and dropping to her knees before me.
On her throat as well were wound the five coils of binding fiber, declaring her slave.
Of the four girls only she did not wear silk, for she was only a Kettle Slave. She wore a brief tunic only of rep-cloth, already stained with grease and the spatterings of the kitchen. Her hair was not combed, and there was dirt on her knees and face. Her face was tired, and strained, and red, flushed from the heat of the cooking fires. Her hands had been blistered from scrubbing and burned from the cooking, roughened and reddened from the cleaning and the washing of the bowls and goblets. I found great pleasure in seeing the proud Telima, who had been my Mistress, as mere Kettle Slave.
"Master?" she asked.
"Make a feast," I said, "Kettle Slave."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Thurnock," cried I, "secure the slaves."
"Yes, my Captain," he boomed.
Midice stood up, timidly. Her hand was before her mouth. "What are you going to do, Master?" she asked.
"We are taking you out," I cried, "to be marked and collared!"
The three girls looked at one another in fear.
Already Thurnock was putting them in coffle, binding the right wrist of each.
Before we set out we broke open the great bottle of paga, and Thurnock, Clitus and I clashed goblets and emptied them of their swirling fires. Then we forced each of the girls, choking and sputtering, to themselves upturn a goblet, swilling down as best they could the fiery draught. I recall Midice standing there in her silk, the leather on her wrist, shaking, coughing, paga on her mouth, looking at me with fear.
"And then," I cried, "we will return and make a feast!"
Thurnock, Clitus and I once more clashed and emptied goblets, and then, leading Midice, first in the coffle, by the lead end of the binding fiber, I stumbled through the door, finding my way down the stairs, with the others, hunting for a smithy.
My memories are confused of the night, but we did find a smithy, and we had the girls marked, and purchased collars for them, lock collars, which we had suitably engraved. Ula's collar read 'I am the property of Clitus'; Thurnock had his slave's engraved 'Thura, slave of Thurnock'; I had two collars engraved, one for Midice and one for Telima; both read simply 'I belong to Bosk'.
I remember Midice, who had already been branded, standing with her back to me and my standing behind her, quite close, with the collar, and placi
ng it about her throat, then, decisively, closing it.
Holding her thus I kissed her on the throat.
She turned to face me, tears in her eyes, fingering the gleaming band of steel.
She had been branded, and doubtless her thigh still stung from the fire of the iron. She knew herself then animal and slave, and so marked.
Now, about her throat, she wore as well the graceful badge of servitude.
There were tears in her eyes as she extended her arms to me, and I took her into my arms and lifted her from her feet, turning and carrying her back to our quarters. As we walked, Thurnock following, carrying Thura, and Clitus then, Ula weeping in his arms, Midice put her head against my left shoulder, and I felt her tears through my tunic.
"It seems," said I, "Midice, I have won you."
"Yes," she said, "you have won me. I am your slave."
I threw back my head and laughed.
She had taunted me at the pole. Now she was my slave.
The girl wept.
That night, the girls in our arms, we feasted, lifting many cups of paga.
Clitus, after returning to our quarters, had left and returned with four musicians, bleary-eyed, routed from their mats well past the Twentieth Hour, but, lured by the jingling of a pair of silver tarsks, ready to play for us, past the dawn if need be. We soon had them drunk as well and though it did not improve their playing, I was pleased to see them join with us in our festivities, helping us to make our feast. Clitus, too, had brought two bottles of Ka-la-na wine, a string of eels, cheese of the Verr, and a sack of red olives from the groves of Tyros.
We greeted him with cheers.
Telima had prepared a roast tarsk, stuffed with suls and peppers from Tor.
There were great quantities of the yellow Sa-Tarna bread, in its rounded, six-part loaves.
We were served by the Kettle Slave, Telima. She poured paga for the men, and Ka-la-na for the women. She tore the bread for us, broke the cheese, ribboned the eels and cut the tarsk. She hurried from one to the other, and the musicians as well, scarcely serving one before being summoned to another. The girls commanded her as well as the men. She was only Kettle Slave and thus, they were of a higher sort than she. Further, I gathered, on the islands, Telima, with her beauty, her skills and arrogance, had not been popular, and it pleased them no little that she should be, in effect, slave for them as well as their masters.
I sat cross-legged at the low table, quaffing paga, my left arm about the shoulders of Midice, who, kneeling, snuggled against me.
Once, as Telima served me, I caught her wrist. She looked at me.
"How is it," I asked, "that a Kettle Slave has an armlet of gold?"
Midice lifted her head and kissed me on the neck, "Give Midice the armlet," she wheedled.
Tears appeared in the eyes of Telima.
"Perhaps later," I told Midice, "if you well please me."
She kissed me. "I will well please you, Master," she said. Then she threw a look of contempt at Telima. "Give me wine," said she, "Slave."
As Midice kissed me again, lingeringly, holding my head in her hands, Telima, tears in her eyes, filled her cup.
I had taken much pleasure from Midice, and put her, as well, for she was slave, at the disposal of the others.
This a master may do, as it pleases him.
Shortly after we had taken our quarters, Midice had knelt before me, of her own accord, and put her hands upon my thighs, and looked up at me, and whispered, "Please let me pleasure you," and then she had added, "and in a thousand ways a thousand times—Master."
And I had put her well to use.
How pleasant are the employments, the applications, the utilities of female slaves.
Across the table I saw Ula, eyes timid, lift her lips to Clitus. He did not refuse her, and they began to kiss, and touch. Thurnock then seized Thura, pressing his lips upon hers. Helpless in his great arms she struggled, but then, as I laughed, she cried out as though in misery and began to yield to him, and then, moments later, her lips eagerly were seeking his.
"Master," said Midice, looking at me, eyes bright.
"Do you recall," I asked pleasantly, looking down into her eyes, "how some days ago, on the rence island, on the night of the festival, in the firelight, when I was bound at the pole, you taunted me in your dance?"
"Master?" she asked, her eyes timid.
"Have you forgotten," I asked, "how you danced before me?"
She drew back. "Please, Master," she whispered, her eyes terrified.
I turned to the musicians. "Do you know," I asked, "the Love Dance of the Newly Collared Slave Girl?"
"Port Kar's?" asked the leader of the musicians.
"Yes," I said.
"Of course," said he.
I had purchased more than marking and collars at the smithy.
"On your feet," boomed Thurnock to Thura, and she leaped frightened to her feet, standing ankle deep in the thick-pile rug.
At a gesture from Clitus, Ula, too, leaped to her feet.
I put ankle rings on Midice, and then slave bracelets. And tore from her the bit of silk she wore. She looked at me with terror.
I lifted her to her feet, and stood before her.
"Play," I told the musicians.
The Love Dance of the Newly Collared Slave Girl has many variations, in the different cities of Gor, but the common theme is that the girl dances her joy that she will soon lie in the arms of a strong master.
The musicians began to play, and to the clappings and cries of Thurnock and Clitus, Thura and Ula danced before them.
I regarded Midice.
She was chained.
Only she was chained.
"Please, no," she said. "Surely I am wholly submitted! Surely your conquest of me is complete! You are my total master! You have had me branded! I am in your collar! I must pleasure you at the snapping of your fingers! What have I more to give! What more could be required of me!"
"Do you think you are free? There is always more to be required of the female slave!" I said.
"Please, no!" she cried, "for the others can see!"
I laughed.
"And I am chained!" she wept, lifting her chained wrists to me, piteously.
"And attractively," I reassured her. Chains, of course, add much to the beauty of a woman. I noted her slim ankles, enclosed in the ankle rings, and her lovely wrists, so closely linked together, clasped beautifully, snugly, in the steel of the bracelets.
"But I am Midice," she said.
"A slave girl," I reminded her.
"Do not make me do this!" she begged. "Do not so demean me!"
"Dance," said I to Midice.
In terror the dark-haired girl, lithe, tears in her eyes, she so marvelously legged, lifted her wrists.
Now again Midice danced, her ankles in delicious proximity and wrists lifted again together back to back above her head, palms out. But this time her ankles were not as though chained, nor her wrists as though braceleted; rather they were truly chained and braceleted; she wore the linked ankle rings, the three-linked slave bracelets of a Gorean master; and I did not think she would now conclude her dance by spitting upon me and whirling away.
She trembled. "Find me pleasing," she begged.
"Do not afflict her so," said Telima to me.
"Go to the kitchen," said I, "Kettle Slave."
Telima turned and, in the stained tunic of rep-cloth, left the room, as she had been commanded.
The music grew more wild.
"Where now," I demanded of Midice, "is your insolence, your contempt!"
"Be kind!" she cried. "Be kind to Midice!"
The music grew even more wild.
And then Ula, boldly before Clitus, tore from her own body the silk she wore and danced, her arms extended to him.
He leaped to his feet and carried her from the room.
I laughed.
Then Thura, to my amazement, though a rence girl, dancing, revealed herself similarly to the great T
hurnock, he only of the peasants, and he, with a great laugh, swept her from her feet and carried her from the room.
"Do I dance for my life?" begged Midice.
I drew the Gorean blade. "Yes," I said, "you do."
And she danced superbly for me, every fiber of her beautiful body straining to please me, her eyes, each instant, pleading, trying to read in mine her fate. At last, when she could dance no more, she fell at my feet, and put her head to my sandals.
"Find me pleasing," she begged. "Find me pleasing, my Master!"
I had had my sport.
I sheathed the blade.
"Light the lamp of love," I said.
She looked up at me, gratefully, but saw then my eyes. Her test was not yet done.
Trembling she fumbled with the flint and steel, to strike sparks into the moss bowl, whence by means of a Ka-la-na shaving the lamp might be lit.
I myself threw down, in one corner, near a slave ring, the Furs of Love.
The musicians, one by one, each with a silver tarsk, stole from the room.
An Ahn later, perhaps a bit more than an Ahn before dawn, the oil in the lamp of love had burned low.
Midice lay against me, in my arms. She looked up at me, and whispered, "Did Midice do well? Is Master pleased with Midice?"
"Yes," I said, wearily, looking at the ceiling. "I am pleased with Midice."
I felt empty.
For a long time then we did not speak.
Then she said, "You are well pleased with Midice, are you not?"
"Yes," I said, "I am well pleased."
"Midice is first girl, is she not?"
"Yes," I said. "Midice is first girl."
Midice looked at me, and whispered. "Telima is only Kettle Slave. Why should she have an armlet of gold?"
I looked at her. Then, wearily, I rose to my feet. I drew on my tunic, and looked down at Midice, who lay there with her legs drawn up, looking at me. I could see the glow of the dim lamp on her collar.
I buckled about me the Gorean blade, with its belt and scabbard.
I went into the kitchen.
There I found Telima sitting against the wall, her knees drawn up, her head down. She raised her head and looked at me. I could see her barely in the light of the coals of the cooking fire, now a flat, reticulated pattern of red and black.
Raiders of Gor Page 13